


Floriography

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Background Hadrian/Rosana, M/M, implied ephrim/red jack/throndir, mentions of red jack/throndir and arrell/alyosha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22541683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Ephrim has many in Hieron vying for his hand, but his heart may already be with someone who has never asked.
Relationships: Ephrim/Fero Feritas
Comments: 21
Kudos: 27





	Floriography

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to petra, for the idea
> 
> Floriography is the language of flowers - for the meanings of the flowers used in this fic, see the end notes.

“It’s a beautiful day,” says Ephrim, “I think I shall take lunch outside and enjoy the fresh air before Lord Alyosha arrives.”

Highwater nods, gesturing for the other servants to carry the food outside.

“By the fountain,” adds Ephrim, as though that hasn’t been his usual lunch spot since he arrived at the mansion.

He walks slowly, a leisurely pace that takes him the long way through the rose garden before he reaches the tall fountain in the centre. A small table of curling iron has already been set, a large umbrella positioned to cast shade over him as he sits.

“Thank you Highwater,” says Ephrim, “I don’t expect he will be, but please do come get me if Alyosha is early. Otherwise I would prefer not to be disturbed.”

Highwater nods, not quite ducking her head faster enough to hide the quirk of her lips. “Of course.”

The garden is quiet as her footsteps fade back towards the house. Ephrim closes his eyes, letting out a deep breath. He settles back, and waits for the best part of his day to walk around the corner.

It only takes a few minutes. Fero is a surprisingly punctual man.

Like the majority of the staff, Fero came with the house. Ephrim isn’t one to pay any mind to below-stairs gossip, but he  _ has _ heard people say that they almost believe that Fero had been plucked out of the ground by the house’s previous owner the way one might pluck a hardy root vegetable. It is a little cruel but perhaps not inaccurate - Ephrim has never known him to be free of dirt, although to be fair he has only ever seen him in the garden, brow slick and hands deep in the soil.

Fero nods to him, the barest incline of his head, before he heads towards the small daisies that circle the fountain. This, Ephrim has come to learn, is part of his daily routine, and is the last thing Fero does prior to having his lunch. In this way, Ephrim’s own lunch has taken on a slightly strategic quality to it.

"You're late," says Ephrim, his voice as charming and airy as he can make it.

Fero, ignoring the deference he should show someone of Ephrim's station, merely shrugs and kneels next to the flowers. Ephrim admires the strong line of his shoulders for a moment, the movement of them under Fero’s clothes.

“I thought perhaps you might take lunch with me,” continues Ephrim, “if you have the time.”

Fero looks up at him for a moment before he looks back down at the flowers, shifting along a little and leaning around to carefully pluck out a weed from behind one of the plants.

“Have to get this done first,” says Fero.

Ephrim smiles. This is, he has discovered, is part of it. The dance.

“Of course,” says Ephrim, “But afterwards?”

Fero looks up again, making a theatrically thoughtful face, as though they have not eaten together almost every day for the past six months.

“Okay,” says Fero.

Fero works his way around the fountain methodically, his face serious. Ephrim watches him out of the corner of his eye, the beating of his heart quickening as Fero gets closer to completing his task. It’s an odd feeling - he’s not usually so anxious to speak to someone, let alone someone he speaks to nearly every day.

Fero stands, dipping his hands in the fountain to wash them and then wiping his hands on his rough work pants. “So. What’ve you got?”

“Nothing too fancy I’m afraid,” says Ephrim, “Just some sandwiches, and some fruit.”

He’s discovered that this is the food Fero likes best. He’s not sure if that would hold true for all meals - after all, he only sees Fero during the day - but Fero grins every time he is presented with them. He smiles at Ephrim across the table, and Ephrim smiles back.

Fero perches on the edge of the fountain to eat. “Heard you’re getting another visitor today. You think you’ll marry this one?”

Ephrim huffs a laugh. “Fero,  _ really _ .”

“Well he’s coming all the way here,” says Fero, “they don’t do that unless they’re serious.”

“It’s just… I don’t believe it’s really a serious offer, if such an offer is forthcoming,” says Ephrim, “It’s more that… well, I suppose word has gotten around that I am... considering offers.”

Fero frowns. “But you’re not considering this one.”

Ephrim takes a sip of tea to mask his pause. “I’m not  _ not _ considering it. Lord Alyosha is a good man, and we are close friends.”

“So… you are?”

“I…” Ephrim lets out a breath. “I suppose I’m considering  _ all _ offers. King Samothes and King Samot have made it clear that they expect me to marry before the year is out. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were directing at least some of the suitors to visit me in an attempt to hurry the process along.”

Fero hums. His hand hovers over the sandwiches for a moment before he takes a piece of fruit instead. He bites into the pear, making a small sound of delight. Ephrim enjoys the curiosity of watching someone do something as simple as eating with the same joyful ferocity that Fero does everything.

“The whole thing still sounds weird to me,” says Fero, after a moment.

“I suppose it must,” says Ephrim, “I doubt there is as much of a deadline on when a gardener must marry.”

Something flickers over Fero’s face for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” He picks up his trowel and basket before he stands. “Uh, good luck?”

Ephrim stifles a laugh. “Thank you Fero.” He pauses. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The words come out a little more hesitant than he’d meant them to, and Ephrim feels a blush rise to his cheeks.

Fero grins. “Sure.”

He touches his fingertips to the brim of his ragged straw sunhat before he departs. Ephrim waves to him as he goes, feeling, as he always does, this it was a shame that he could not convince Fero to stay a little longer.

\--

Alyosha arrives a little late, as always. He smiles at Ephrim, presenting a bouquet of yellow roses. Ephrim accepts them, a little relieved at the choice. Alyosha has always been very careful with the language of flowers and Ephrim, although not fluent in it, has certainly seen enough of this particular flower to understand Alyosha’s meaning.

“Take a walk with me?” offers Ephrim.

Alyosha hesitates slightly. “A short walk would be lovely.”

“Of course,” says Ephrim, “I know the trip here is tiresome for you.”

Alyosha smiles, taking the arm Ephrim offers as they begin their walk, although Ephrim can still feel Alyosha leaning on his cane. He uses it as a guide as they walk, changing their course towards a small stone bench as he begins to feel Alyosha lean on it more heavily.

Alyosha looks around, admiring the landscape around them. The trees arch overhead, shading the sprinkling of tiny violets that spread from the treeline to their feet, making the cool breeze lightly fragrant. The ferns either side of the bench shield them from the path, creating almost a small alcove for them to sit in, apart from the world.

“I am always amazed at how much it changes between my visits,” says Alyosha, “I don’t believe any of this was here last time I visited you.”

Ephrim thinks of Fero a few months ago, how he’d frowned in this direction of the grounds and mentioned something about wanting to change something around the seating areas. Ephrim had waved a hand and told him to do whatever he thought best.

“Whatever I like?” Fero had said.

“Of course,” said Ephrim, “I trust your judgement.”

Fero had flushed a very pretty pink, a rare sight that Ephrim treasured. Fero was a difficult man to fluster.

Ephrim shakes himself out of the memory. “Yes, I suppose it must look quite different. Although, you haven’t been here in-” He catches himself, offering Alyosha a small smile in apology. “Well, it has been a while.”

Alyosha’s expression looks tight. “Yes, it has been a little while.”

Ephrim shifts in his seat. “Alyosha, I- I apologise, I would never wish to stir up hurt feelings-”

Alyosha puts a hand on Ephrim’s. “You have nothing to apologise for. It is I who must apologise to you, for being such a poor friend of late. Whirlwind romances make fools of us all.”

Ephrim would hardly consider a ten year romance via letters to be a whirlwind, but it has not yet been a month since Arrell closed off his engagement to Alyosha, so it would be cruel to point it out. Instead, he squeezes Alyosha’s hand.

Alyosha smiles at him, looking away towards the treeline. “I’m afraid I… there is another deeper reason for my visiting you today.” He pauses. “King Samot and King Samothes suggested that perhaps you would… look favourably upon… an engagement between us.”

Ephrim presses his lips together to suppress a laugh. “I- Alyosha, you do not have to feel so badly about it. I did guess at the cause.”

Alyosha flushes slightly. He is a pretty man, and if Ephrim could make the two of them fall in love he has no doubt that they would be quite happy together. Perhaps they would be happy enough without being in love, but he knows that that is not the life either of them desire.

“Alyosha,” says Ephrim carefully, “I… it is very flattering, of course, and I care about you a great deal, but I… We would not be truly happy together, I think.”

Alyosha lets out a breath. Ephrim is thankful that he looks more relieved than saddened.

“Yes,” says Alyosha, “That is what I thought as well.”

“It is a shame we are not more of the same mind,” says Ephrim, “Perhaps then we would be in love.”

Alyosha laughs softly. “Perhaps.”

They turn easily to other topics of conversation, the changing of the season and the latest fashions that Ephrim had seen when he was last in town. Alyosha tells him about a wonderful novel he’s been reading (it cheers Ephrim, perhaps somewhat pettily, to hear that Alyosha is reading something by someone other than Arrell).

Ephrim walks him back to the front of the house as the afternoon wanes.

“I hope that my rejection of your proposal will not cause you to avoid visiting,’ says Ephrim.

“Of course not,” says Alyosha, “In truth I will be happier to visit now that I do not have to focus my efforts into charming you into marriage.”

Ephrim laughs.

\--

It’s a fine day, and so Ephrim decides to take a longer morning constitutional than usual, walking the edge of the hedge maze. It’s one of the stranger aspects of the house and grounds, but it is so often remarked upon by visitors that he feels he cannot simply get rid of it, even if he is not one to walk the maze that often himself.

He comes across Fero, his arms stretched high as he carefully trimmed one of the hedges in the entryway.

“Good morning,” says Ephrim, slowing his steps to stand in front of Fero.

Fero glances over his shoulder, shooting Ephrim a grin. “Morning.”

“This is a long task to start the day with,” says Ephrim.

Fero shrugs. “It doesn’t need much, just a little maintenance. Doesn’t take too long.”

"It is a wonder that you do not get lost," says Ephrim.

"Why would I? I designed it."

"You did?"

Fero glances at him. "Well, who else would have?"

“I-” Ephrim huffs a laugh. “I suppose you’re right.”

Fero hums, turning back to his work. The silence drags on a shade too long, and Ephrim is about to excuse himself when Fero clears his throat.

“I can, uh. Tell you the secret to getting through it. If you want.”

Ephrim grins. “A  _ secret _ path? Well, that I  _ would _ like to know.”

“It’s not a secret path exactly, it’s more like… I mean, it’s not supposed to be  _ difficult _ to solve, it’s supposed to be a fun thing for people to do, so it’s-”

Fero breaks off, glancing around them. Ephrim suppresses a smile, stepping closer to Fero.

“It’s always two lefts then a right,” says Fero, his voice quiet.

“Really?” says Ephrim, matching his tone.

Fero nods, grinning up at him. “Told you it was easy.” He pauses. “If you ever do get stuck though, just yell out. I’m always around, I’ll come find you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” says Ephrim.

That evening Ephrim looks down at the hedge maze from his bedroom window. It stretches across the ground, twisting around itself. Even from this high vantage point and with Fero’s secret advice, it's difficult to see the way out. Still, he can see Fero moving through it, walking quickly, not hesitating as he makes one turn after another, only pausing to tend to part of the maze, his pruning shears flashing in the setting sun.

Ephrim keeps watching him until Fero exits the maze and slips out of sight around the side of the mansion.

\--

It is a joy to see Throndir again, particularly as he is able to stay for longer than a day. They talk from morning ‘til night. Throndir has the most fascinating stories about the northern mountains and the king who resides there, weaving his tales so well that Ephrim would almost believe they were half folk tale if it were not Throndir who told it to him.

He’s so caught up in the excitement of seeing Throndir again that he doesn’t even begin to suspect that Throndir might have another reason behind his visit until the third day. Throndir is late down to breakfast, unusual in and of itself, and when he does emerge there’s an odd pause to his words, as though he keeps trying to say something before he thinks better of it.

Ephrim waits until they are out on the grounds before he voices his concerns.

Throndir’s cheeks flush. “I had forgotten what a keen eye you have for these things.”

“So there is something you wish to discuss?”

“I- yes,” says Throndir, “I just- I don’t want you to think this was my only reason for visiting.”

“Ah,” says Ephrim, “So King Samot and Samothes spoke to you too.”

Throndir laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “They sent me a letter while I was staying in the north which said, in essence, that if I had not yet secured a marriage to the northern king that I should come back here post-haste and secure marriage to you instead.”

Ephrim laughs too, taking Throndir’s arm. It’s perhaps a touch informal, but they are old enough friends that they can push the bounds of social conventions, just a little. Throndir smiles down at him, leaning into him a little. Ephrim hopes his blush is faint enough to be passed off as high spirits.

“I am sorry to have cut your time there short,” says Ephrim, “I know how much you were enjoying your time with the Red King.”

An expression flickers over Throndir’s face. If they were not so close, in friendship and in physical distance, Ephrim would have missed it. As it is, he feels a pang in his chest.

“It’s fine,” says Throndir easily, “I could hardly refuse an order from our kings, even if I did not think that you would agree to it.”

“It’s not that I don’t think we would make a good match,” says Ephrim, “We would, I think, but I know…” He lowers his voice. “I know your true affections lie elsewhere.”

Throndir lets out a breath. “You are as good of a friend as I have ever had Ephrim.”

“As are you, to me,” says Ephrim. He presses a light kiss to Throndir’s cheek. “Come, let us put it out of our minds for the moment - I believe you promised me a display of archery.”

“That I did,” says Throndir.

He slips his arm around Ephrim’s, keeping them close as they head towards where Throndir’s steward has set up the archery range, his body warm even through the layers of fabric separating them.

\--

"I thought you liked Throndir," says Fero.

" _ Prince _ Throndir," corrects Ephrim, "And I do, but..." He takes a sip of his tea, glancing over his shoulder. They are alone, still, the sound of the fountain masking their voices from anyone who might be attempting to overhear. "His heart lies elsewhere, and it seems cruel to separate him from it."

Fero's frown deepens. "But he likes you too."

Ephrim does his best to ignore the flush of heat to his cheeks - he didn't think he would ever become immune to Fero's blunt way of speaking, nor his way at getting to the heart of things that Ephrim would prefer to leave hidden.

"That may be so in truth, but for a prince, a heart must be given fully to one person alone."

Fero wrinkles his nose. "Well that's not exactly practical."

"Practical?"

"Yeah," says Fero, "I mean, people don't feel that way just because they're supposed to. People feel, y'know-" He shrugs. '-however they feel. Can't imagine it's different just because someone's a  _ prince _ ."

“That may be so,” says Ephrim, “but it is the reality of the situation we find ourselves in.”

He tries for a smile but he has a feeling, from Fero’s expression, that he doesn’t quite make it. It’s not as though he’s in  _ love _ with Throndir, really, although sometimes he feels as though it would be all to easy to let himself fall. Despite the implied blessing from King Samothes and King Samot, it would hardly be ideal for him to marry someone of Ephrim’s minor Lordship, even if he were not currently entangled with the Red King.

Fero frowns. He leans forward, putting his hand over Ephrim’s, where it’s resting on the table. Fero’s fingers feel a little gritty with dirt, and Ephrim can feel the calluses on Fero’s palm against the back of his hand. Ephrim goes very still.

“I-” Fero huffs a breath, his smile a little crooked. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about that. I wish you could…”

“Follow my heart?” offers Ephrim.

“Something like that, I guess,” says Fero.

“It is only a small hardship. My life here is not so terrible.” Ephrim pauses. “The gardens, at least, are beautiful.”

Fero smiles at him, oddly shy. “You’re welcome.”

Ephrim laughs. Fero keeps smiling at him, even as he sits back, leaving a small smudge of dirt on the back of Ephrim’s hand as proof of their contact. Ephrim doesn’t wipe it away.

Their hands stay on the table, only a few inches between them.

\--

Corsica visits, bringing with her the usual barrage of information from the battlefront and gossip from the city, as well as the desire to go horse riding through the grounds. Ephrim appreciates the fresh air and the news, as always, even if it does mean he ends the day exhausted from the effort.

She, of course, also brings with her an offer. It’s not really a good match, for either of them. Ephrim has a strong feeling that they would be tremendous at running a household together and terrible at doing anything else. Thankfully, because it is Corsica, he can tell her so. Her shoulders relax slightly with relief.

“I did have to ask,’ says Corsica.

“Yes,” says Ephrim, “you and every other eligible person of good social standing in Hieron, apparently.”

Corsica laughs, the sounds muffled by her mask. “Have you had any decent offers?”

“All of them have been decent,” says Ephrim, “But none have been… It is difficult, I think, to find someone with whom I could be happy with, and who could be happy with me.”

Corsica nods. “That is why I stick to battle and scandalous affairs.”

“Ah yes,” says Ephrim, appreciating that she’s letting him out of the conversation easily, “How  _ are _ Severa and Galenica?”

The corners of Cosica’s eyes crinkle as she smiles. “They are well, looking forward to springtime I believe, and their travel plans to see the world as it comes out of winter. No doubt they will stop by your estate in a few months time.”

“Oh?”

“Word has reached them of your gardens,” says Corsica, “It is a source of much conversation, for those who care about such things.”

“It is all Fero’s doing, really,” says Ephrim, “I cannot really take the credit.”

“Fero?”

“My- ah, the gardener here,” says Ephrim.

Corsica hums, her attention turning for a moment to the window. From here, they can see the corner of the hedge maze, the lush, spreading lawn, the herb gardens arranged to spiral out towards the treeline. Even now, in the winter, it is a wonderful sight. In spring it will be one of the most beautiful views of the garden, or indeed, any garden Ephrim can think of.

“You must have great faith in him,” says Corscia, “to let him do what he pleases with your grounds.”

“I know that he cares about them too much to do anything but try his utmost,” says Ephrim, “and he certainly has proven his worth to me many times over.”

Corsica hums again, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Before he can ask her what she means by her line of questioning, she changes the topic, moving on to the latest gossip surrounding the opera singer Ms Joie.

\--

“ _ Another _ proposal?”

Ephrim jumps a little, turning from where he’s brushing down his horse. Fero is standing in the stable doorway, a basket of tools on his arm.

“Yes,” says Ephrim, turning back to his task.

“And?” says Fero. 

His voice sounds a little closer, although Ephrim doesn’t turn around.

Ephrim turns the words over in his mind, considering his answer before he speaks. "I said no, although it wouldn’t have been awful to have said yes.”

"Seriously?"

Ephrim shrugs, a delicate roll of his shoulders. "We are of the same mind, more often than not. It would not be so terrible."

"Yeah but... you don't  _ love _ her," says Fero.

"A good match is not about  _ love _ ," says Ephrim, "It is an alliance of the mind."

“Right,” says Fero, “Right, of course.”

When Ephrim turns around a moment later, Fero is nowhere to be seen.

\--

His next visitor is Hadrian, who presents Ephrim with an overly-large assortment of peach and pink roses and seems more than a little nervous about being inside the mansion. Ephrim understands, at least in part. He has always lived in such a manner, but Hadrian has only recently come into a small amount of land, gifted to him by King Samothes and King Samot in thanks for his feats of bravery on the battlefield. For all that he has been greatly favoured by the court, it is clear that his new titles sit ill at ease upon his shoulders.

Ephrim suggests they go for a walk instead, much to Hadrian’s immediate and obvious relief. Their feet lead them towards the hedge maze. Ephrim hesitates for a moment before he leads them inside, keeping Fero’s directions at the front of his mind.

Hadrian’s fingers flex at his sides as they walk in silence, opening his mouth and then shutting it again. Ephrim waits until they find the centre of the maze, gesturing to the elegantly-carved stone bench seat. Hadrian waits for Ephrim to sit before he follows.

Hadrian clears his throat once, twice.

“Hadrian,” says Ephrim, kindly, “is there something you wish to ask of me?”

“I, ah.” Hadrian clears his throat again. “Lord Ephrim. We haven’t known each other long, but I, uh. I heard that um. It’s, that is, King Samothes said that I should, uh-”

Ephrim puts a hand on Hadrian’s arm, making him stutter to a stop. He blushes as well, ducking his head. It’s quite a charming picture, really. Ephrim’s almost sorry to turn him down.

“You do not have to offer yourself to me in marriage Lord Hadrian,” says Ephrim.

Hadrian frowns. “I don’t?”

Ephrim huffs a laugh. “Well. Not unless you really want to.”

“Are… are you sure?” says Hadrian, “King Samothes was pretty insistent that I come and visit you…”

“I am sure,” says Ephrim, “I hope I have not offered you any offence by being so blunt, but I have been doing this quite a lot over the past month, and I believe that I am getting quite good at divining people’s true feelings on this particular matter.”

Hadrian lets out a deep breath. “I- thank you.”

Ephrim smiles, squeezing Hadrian’s arm once before he lets go. “Think nothing of it. I am sure that there will be many other opportunities in your life for you to find a suitable match.”

Curiously, the tips of Hadrian’s ears flush red. “I… yeah.” He pauses. “How do you… you said you’ve had conversations like this a lot?”

“Just this past month,” says Ephrim, “If I had been turning down proposals my entire life I imagine I would be quite the centre for scandals by now.”

“No, I mean-” Hadrian’s brow furrows. “How do you know? When a person’s… when you’re…”

“In love?” says Ephrim.

“Yeah,” breathes Hadrian.

“I…” Ephrim huffs a laugh. “You know, I’m not entirely sure.” He looks at Hadrian out of the corner of his eye. “Why do you ask?”

“I… there’s this woman, in the village where I lived,” says Hadrian, “I used to see her at the market, sometimes, and I always thought that she was so… and I talked to her, a few times, and when she laughed it was like… I don’t know, it was the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

“And?” says Ephrim.

“And what?”

“And what did she say, when you asked for her hand?”

“I, uh, I didn’t, um-” Hadrian looks away, scuffing his boots along the tiles. “I haven’t been back, yet. I- It felt like intruding and I didn’t want to bother her.”

Ephrim presses his lips together to stifle a laugh. The champion of King Samothes’ army, too nervous to tell a woman he loves her.

“This woman-”

“Rosana.”

“Right, Rosana,” says Ephrim, “when you spoke to her, she spoke back to you, yes?”

“Yes?”

“And you made her laugh, yes?”

Hadrian nods, slowly.

“And you think of her often?”

“Every day,” says Hadrian, “I keep trying to write to her like she asked me too, but I’m no good with words, and- what?”

“She asked you to write to her?” says Ephrim.

“I- yes?”

“My dear Lord Hadrian,” says Ephrim, “You should leave here and go directly to your village to find this Rosana, and when you find her you should tell her all that you’ve told me.”

“Really?” says Hadrian, “You don’t think she… I mean, suppose she has a sweetheart now? I don’t want to cause trouble for her.”

“If she has a sweetheart already then at least you’ll know,” says Ephrim, “It isn’t doing your heart any good to wonder on her feelings from a distance.”

“I…” Hadrian swallows. “Okay.”

Ephrim nods, standing up and offering Hadrian a hand.

“What, now?”

“No time like the present to follow your heart,” says Ephrim.

\--

Ephrim takes to long way back to his rooms, a path that takes him along a path around the mansion. Fero is tending to the tangle of morning glory flowers that run along the side of the house, and he glances up as Ephrim slows his steps beside him.

"I thought you said finding a good match wasn't about love," says Fero, without preamble

"It isn't," says Ephrim.

"Then how come you keep telling all the guys that come here to follow their hearts?" says Fero.

"I- That's-" splutters Ephrim.

Fero laughs, not unkindly. He waves a hand. "Don't be mad! It's, uh. It's nice that you're looking out for them like that."

"Oh," says Ephrim.

"I just-" Fero presses his lips together. "There's not anyone looking out for  _ you _ like that, is there?"

Ephrim lets out a breath. "No. No, I don't suppose there is."

Fero pauses, shifting his feet a little before he speaks. “I- Look, I know I’m just… but if you ever need someone to tell you to follow what your heart wants, I could… I mean, I’m not exactly an expert, but I… I’m here.”

Ephrim swallows hard around the sudden tightness in his throat. “Thank you Fero. That’s… it’s very kind of you to offer.”

Fero nods, turning back to his work. Ephrim watches him for a moment before he steps away, continuing back towards the mansion. 

He allows himself one single glance back towards Fero as he walks. Fero is still turned away from him, his arms stretched high to gently push a tendril of the morning glory vine back into place. 

\--

It’s not really a surprise when, a week later, Ephrim receives an invitation to Hadrian’s wedding to Rosana. Included in the invitation and the perfunctory letter from one estate to another is a short letter from Hadrian. True to his word, he is not the most skilled letter writer, but what he lacks in eloquence he more than makes up for in the sincerity of his thanks and joy.

He goes, of course, his carriage laden down with dozens of flowers than Fero personally selected - red and white roses, daffodils, lavender, peonies and sunflowers. It creates the effect that he’s travelling more by a market cart than a stately carriage, but he can’t help but find it appealing all the same. If nothing else, it will at least lessen his sadness at leaving his garden behind for a day or two.

“There’s more inside,” says Highwater, opening the carriage door, “Fero left them for you.”

There’s a small bouquet inside the carriage too, red, orange, and salmon colour roses. Ephrim freezes, one foot still outside the carriage, as he stares at the flowers. Slowly, gently, he touches the petals of the red rose, his heart stuttering in his chest.

“Well,” says Ephrim softly to himself.

He swallows. Of all the proposals he’s had over the past month, this one is the most surprising.

Highwater clears her throat from behind him. “Ready to go?”

Ephrim’s head snaps up. “I- yes. Yes of course.”

She frowns. “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” says Ephrim, careful to angle his body in front of the small bouquet, “Let’s go, I wouldn’t want to be late.”

“It shouldn’t take us more than a few hours to arrive,” says Highwater, “plenty of time.”

“Right,” says Ephrim, “Still.”

He hurriedly shuts the door. It’s perhaps a little rude, but Highwater has been with him long enough that he doubts she’ll take it personally. He looks down at the bouquet as the carriage starts to move, the petals trembling with the movement of the carriage.

Ephrim watches out the window as they pull away from the estate, but Fero is nowhere to be seen. Even so, he remains in Ephrim’s thoughts as he travels, the small bouquet drawing his eyes away from the countryside passing by the window.

Salmon roses for honest desire. Orange roses for enthusiasm. Red roses for... 

For love.

Red roses for love.

\--

The wedding is a strange affair, a simple event overlaid with the extravagance of the King’s coffers. Rosana and Hadrian both accept his gift of the flowers gratefully, although there is certainly enough of their own lining every surface.

“We have heard much praise of your gardens,” says King Samot.

“Thank you, your highness,” says Ephrim.

“When you are married, I am sure that we will see an even more beautiful arrangement.”

Ephrim thinks of the small bouquet, secreted away in his jacket.

“Of course, your highness,” says Ephrim.

The ceremony is long. It would be tedious too, if it were not for the love and happiness radiating from the couple at the front of the room.

Ephrim spots what he’s sure are some of the flowers he brought in Rosana’s bouquet.

He thinks of his garden, Fero kneeling in the rich soil, gently coaxing the plants out of the earth until they bloom into riotous colour.

He thinks of the small bouquet, safe in his room, the colours a little muted compared to the others he’d brought but the meaning behind them loud and clear.

\--

Ephrim is pulled into the dance earlier than he usually allows himself to be, Hadrian and Rosana both insisting on taking him for a turn about the floor. Hadrian mumbles his thanks, his blush visible even in the dim candlelight. Rosana merely smiles at him, wide and full of warm joy. He cannot help but smile back. They will both make each other tremendously happy, of that he has no doubt.

He has barely rested a minute before Throndir is by his side.

“Do me the honour?”

Ephrim laughs, accepting his hand. “Of course.”

They chat about nothing in particular for the first song, travel plans and northern weather, falling into a comfortable silence for the second song.

“I hear that you have received many proposals such as mine of late,” says Throndir.

“I hope you did not think that you were the only person they had asked to approach me,” says Ephrim.

“Not at all,” says Throndir, “I was a little worried for you, to be honest. To have the King’s favour in a such a way is a blessing, but I am sure such attention also comes with its own negatives.”

“Indeed,” says Ephrim, hoping his tone can convey what his words cannot, given how close they are to the other couples dancing.

Throndir laughs. Ephrim relaxes slightly, smiling.

“Although, I did wonder if perhaps your wedding would not be the next event of the season,” says Throndir.

“Oh?” says Ephrim, still smiling.

“Yes,” says Throndir, “Your letters have seemed happier of late. I think you have the mark of love upon you.”

Ephrim hopes that the dim light is enough to disguise his blush. “If any one of the proposals I had received under the direction of their highnesses had been successful, you would have been the first to know, I assure you.”

Throndir hums. “And what of proposals  _ not _ received under their direction.”

Ephrim thinks of the bouquet in his room, positioned at this very moment next to his bed.

“I…”

He feels Throndir’s steps falter for a moment. “You- I was merely teasing, but  _ is _ there-”

Ephrim shushes him, perhaps a shade too loudly.

Throndir grins. “Well! I will speak no more of it, lest you give the game away, but rest assured I will drag the details out of you tomorrow.”

“In truth, there are barely any details to tell,” says Ephrim.

“I doubt that,” says Throndir, “Anyone that can make you blush so must be an interesting sort of person indeed.”

Despite his embarrassment, Ephrim can’t quite help the smile that spreads over his face. “He is.”

He says his goodnights before the party has truly died down, slipping quietly back to his room. The moonlight shines through the window, illuminating the bouquet. Ephrim’s hand trembles a little as he touches a petal.

He falls asleep looking at the flowers, and dreams of the garden.

\--

Ephrim breakfasts in his room in the morning. He had promised a morning ride with Corsica and then to lunch with Throndir before he left. Both would have to be kept relatively short, to enable him to stop by Alyosha’s estate on his way back home, something of a blessing in disguise since it meant he would be able to return home much more quickly than if he’d had no social engagements at all.

Indeed, he was quite keen to leave as soon as possible, before the Kings went door to door on behalf of his hand.

There was a knock at the door. Ephrim frowned. It was much too early for visitors. He stood, stepping closer to the door. He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorhandle.

“Who is it?” says Ephrim.

“Prince Maelothes. May I come in?”

Ephrim’s heart leapt to his throat. “I, uh. One moment, please, your highness.”

He scrambled to dress, straightening his clothes and smoothing down his hair as best he could before opening the door.

Maelothes cut an imposing figure in the doorway, stepping inside without hesitation.

“Forgive me, your highness, I was not expecting visitors at this hour,” says Ephrim.

Maelothes hummed. He looked around the room before his eyes landed back on Ephrim.

“I did not see you at yesterday’s celebrations,” says Ephrim.

“You wouldn’t have,” says Maelothes, “I did not arrive until late last night. My fathers requested my presence.”

“Oh?” says Ephrim.

“They believe that I am too wild, and that in order to settle down my ways I must be wed.” His lip curls in a cold approximation of a smile. “No doubt they believe this is what has helped tame my brother Mealgwyn.”

“I… see,” says Ephrim.

“So you accept, then,” says Maelothes.

“I…” Ephrim blinks. “You must forgive me, your highness, for the hour is so early. What is it that I am to accept?”

“My proposal,” says Maelothes.

Ephrim opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, so he shuts it again.

“If you are even half as smart as I have been told, then you will not need me to describe the benefits of being wed to a prince of Hieron,” says Maelothes.

“Yes, I… it is a fine match,” says Ephrim faintly.

“Good,” says Maelothes, turning to leave, “I will inform my fathers.”

“Wait, I-”

Maelothes turns, his eyes flashing. Ephrim stops himself from taking a step back, but it’s a near thing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the small bouquet of roses, unassuming and plain compared to the grandeur of a palace but all the more welcoming for it.

Ephrim swallows. “Your highness I- It’s a very flattering offer, and a very kind one-”

“Yes,” says Maelothes, “It is.”

“But I cannot accept,” says Ephrim.

“You  _ what _ ?”

“I cannot-”

Maelothes takes a step forward and this time Ephrim  _ does _ take a step back.

“I am a  _ prince _ ,” says Maelothes.

“I know,” says Ephrim, quietly but as firmly as he can manage. “But I do not love you.”

Maelothes’ stunned silence hangs in the air for a long moment.

“There is another, then,” growls Maelothes, “I had guessed enough. You have turned too many away to not have your sights set elsewhere.”

Ephrim swallows, his toes curling in his boots.

“If you are so foolish as to reject me, no other will have you,” says Maelothes, “you must realise that to reject me is to live the rest of your days alone.”

Ephrim has the sudden of vision of what Fero would do if he were present in the room, most likely yelling something despite Maelothes’s height and social position. Maelothes would probably be quite stunned at the response. Ephrim presses his lips together, trying to keep his features to something closer to respect than to laughter.

“I suppose that may be true,” says Ephrim, “but it is still my choice.”

Maelothes turns and storms out without another word.

Ephrim lets out a slow breath, then calls for Highwater. Any chance that he could spend the day relaxing in his friends company has surely left along with Maelothes. In fact, it is probably prudent to leave as quickly as possible.

He’s sure to take the bouquet with him before he leaves.

\--

It begins to rain as they pull into the driveway. Ephrim directs Highwater to unpack his things, and quickly, before he leaps out of the carriage, breaking into a run as he approaches the path.

Despite the rain, he knows exactly where Fero will be.

Fero is a hunched figure by the fountain, dwarfed by the hooded coat he wears to protect himself from the rain. Ephrim stumbles to a stop on the wet pavers, the bouquet clutched tightly in his hand.

“Fero.”

Fero twitches, looking behind himself before he stands. He smiles, his eyes flicking from the bouquet to Ephrim’s face.

“Hi, hello, I, uh- hi,” says Fero, “You’re back early.”

“Yes,” says Ephrim. He pauses. “I, uh. Prince Maelothes proposed to me.”

Fero’s shoulders slump. “Oh, right-”

“I said no, of course,” says Ephrim.

Fero’s mouth drops open, forming a silent  _ oh _ . “That’ll be trouble.”

“Oh, yes, undoubtedly,” says Ephrim, “But I could never have agreed to it, because I… I…” He swallows, tightening his grip on the bouquet. “I know it is rather improper to regift something that has been given, especially to the person who gave it to you in the first place. But I, uh. I wanted to give you this, as my answer.”

He holds out the roses to Fero. Fero steps forward, but his hands stay as his sides.

“I thought you had to make a good match?”

“I do, but I… I think I would rather have love instead,” says Ephrim.

Fero reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing Ephrim’s as he takes the bouquet. He looks down at the flowers, biting his lip as he looks up at Ephrim.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d understand,” says Fero, “some people just see a bunch of flowers.”

Ephrim steps closer, bridging the gap between them and cupping Fero’s cheek in his hand.

“I don’t,” says Ephrim, “I see a garden.”

He leans down to kiss Fero. Fero melts against him, his hands tentatively brushing Ephrim’s waist. Ephrim pulls him close, deepening the kiss and Fero follows his lead, carding his hands through Ephrim’s hair.

Distantly, he can hear Highwater calling for him.

Ephrim sighs, pulling back slightly. “I suppose I should mention - we might have to take a short trip, for a while, until Prince Maelothes gets over his hurt feelings.”

Fero’s hands curl around the labels of Ephrim’s coat. “I’ve never been on a trip before. Where to?”

“I was thinking, perhaps… the north?”

Fero grins. “A visit to the Red King and Prince Throndir?”

Ephrim ducks his head. “Well. Perhaps. If you’ll allow it.”

Fero’s cold fingers touch his chin, tilting his head back up. “Hey. If you want it, we’ll do it.”

Ephrim’s chest feels tight. Instead of words, he leans down to kiss Fero instead. Ephrim can feel the bouquet between them, still clutched in Fero’s hand.

He’s sure Fero understands what he means by it. He’s adept at speaking without words, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Fero's gardening: daisies can represent new beginnings, morning glory can represent love in vain
> 
> Alyosha gift: yellow roses are used to symbolise friendship
> 
> Hadrian's gift: peach roses symbolise gratitude, and pink roses represent admiration
> 
> The flowers that Ephrim gifts to Hadrian and Rosana for their wedding: red roses for love, white roses for new beginnings, daffodils for new beginnings, lavender for devotion and virtue, peonies are used to wish people a happy marriage, and sunflowers represent devoted love.
> 
> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


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